Enter the Epiphany
by Moretta
Summary: Draco walks into the 'Epiphany' dressed to kill. Naturally. In a club people drink, people dance, people find other people to go home with. Slash. Of the Drarry variety. Rated for scenes of sexual-ish nature.


Because you people who review are awesome. So this is especially for my reviewers.

Disclaimer: Don't own. I think that if I did own the franchise, I'd be living off of slightly more than £6...

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Draco walks into the _Epiphany_ dressed to kill. Naturally.

The club has a very exclusive list. To get in, someone else needs to take you the first time, and no more than 2 guests per person.

Draco loves the _Epiphany_, even if he can't remember how he ended up here the first time.

He stands at the bar, holding a drink that may very well have contained liquid lust, looking at the bodies around him.

One of the reasons he likes this bar is the fact that no matter who you are, once you're in you're part of the _Epiphany_. Muggle, wizard, black, white, famous, not, man, woman, sometimes both – nobody asks questions, it's part of the ride, part of what makes the club so different from everywhere else.

There's a girl in the corner who is wearing tight shorts over fishnets. Draco likes fishnets on girls. And the occasional boy. But girls in fishnets and black boots almost make him salivate with anticipation.

Then he sees her almost drop her drink and she staggers into 3 other girls, who proceed to drag her somewhere.

The bartender winks at him and refills his glass for free.

He doesn't remember much after that.

Draco doesn't see the appeal in getting drunk.

Men stumbling around, girls falling off their too-high heels, people vomiting in the streets.

Getting tipsy, yes. Even slightly high, yes. Enough to not remember anything the next day, but not enough to have lost complete control. Enough for a slight headache, but not enough to wake up next to a completely unsuitable stranger.

So when he wakes up the next day next to Harry Potter in the man's flat in Kensington, he panics. He doesn't have a headache, in fact he feels fine, so he can't have drunk _that_ much, can he?

He looks round the room and sees a shirt that looks too small for even him, as well as being a colour he would never wear, and he remembers.

There was dancing, quite a lot of dancing, and even more drinking. There was a bartender who let him get some cocktails for free, but he must have given them to someone else because he doesn't drink anything that isn't the colour it's supposed to be.

But the dancing. There was pair fishnets, not the girl with the shorts, and then the shirt.

That tight, too-tight, shirt, and Potter's body underneath it.

_Potter's body. Hidden under that shirt, but completely visible as he danced/ All chest and muscles, but not too many muscles, thin but not too thin, arms strong enough to pin him in place, but the grip soft enough to let him escape if he'd wanted to. So much soft skin, sweaty from the dancing, pink in places, slightly rough fingers, a long, toned back. A body constructed from all the things he'd liked about other men._

Draco closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and opens them again.

Potter rolls over, glasses-less, mumbling something in his sleep.

_Potter's face. He'd been able to move almost freely in the club, smiling all the while, Potter's eyes bright behind his glasses. Squarer than the ones he'd had in school, trendy, he was part of the crowd here. Cheeks tinged pink as he took a sip from something bright, one of the drinks the bartender has given Draco, licking his lips and Draco diving in for contact because he hadn't yet._

He shakes his head just before his finger comes in contact with Potter's lips.

His eyes focus on Potter's arm instead, the arm that's wrapped around his pillow, and the way it held him last night.

_Potter's touch. He was good, very good. His touch sometimes teasing, sometimes stroking, sometimes barely there, sometimes forceful, sometimes pinching, sometimes pulling, but always about him. Fingers everywhere they needed to be, the odd kiss, and the heat that overwhelms Draco during really good sex. Potter's fingertips brushing his lip, and a feather-light kiss that shouldn't have been as intimate as it was, Draco fell asleep soon after._

Draco's staring at Potter's lips again.

Out of all the things Draco stared at last night, Potter's lips were probably observed the most.

The way Potter always used to lick them in school gave him bad thoughts, and they all rushed back to him last night when Potter licked them after drinking the much too sugary cocktail handed to him by Draco.

_Potter's taste. At first, his lips were too smooth, his taste was too sweet, but after the coconut taste had gone, Potter was still sweet. His skin was salty, ever so slightly, more so because of his sweat from dancing, then other activities. Sweet and salty, one then the other, but hints of aftershave and the perfume of a girl Draco, and Potter, had danced with earlier on also lingered. Draco licked away the smell of other people, the smell that was taking away from the taste of sweet and salty, and enjoyed every minute of it._

When he's close enough to kiss Potter, he realises what he's doing and panics all over again. He runs.

He grabs his clothes off the floor and Disapparates before he even has his boxers on properly.

But that night he goes back to the _Epiphany_, hoping maybe someone will give him one of his own.

He walks in, different clothes but just as stunning, intending to replace the desire to touch Potter again with someone else, but he ends up paying the bartender extra to keep Potter's glass full.

By the time he goes up to Potter with two glasses and a predatory grin, Potter wouldn't recognise Dumbledore himself, he's so out of it. But still so talented.

Being a Seeker helped Draco in a lot of ways, made his hearing keener, his senses sharper, and it must have been the same for Potter, because they both recognise what the other likes in those light touches before the lights go out, and their inhibitions go with them.

They respond to each other beautifully. They respond to each other in a way that Draco hasn't ever found in a one-night stand before, two-nighter now, but he remembers things from the first night and it seems so does Potter's body.

This happens every week or so now.

Draco goes into the _Epiphany_ looking for one thing only – every week he gets his Potter fix and Potter will never know.

No, Draco doesn't see the appeal in getting drunk. Getting other people drunk, on the other hand, holds infinitely more appeal.

And, who knows, perhaps tonight will be the night that Potter wakes up first.


End file.
